


Surviving isn't easy

by Spaceytrash



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Coming Out, Death, Depression, F/M, IT Chapter Two Spoilers, M/M, Movie: IT Chapter Two, Past Character Death, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sad, Sad Richie Tozier, Therapy, getting better in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 22:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaceytrash/pseuds/Spaceytrash
Summary: Empty. It was all he felt after escaping that damn hole in the ground under the hell house on Neibolt Street. He should feel joy or elation after escaping that fucking clown but all he felt was emptiness and bone deep sadness.Richie deals with what happened.





	Surviving isn't easy

Empty. It was all he felt after escaping that damn hole in the ground under the hell house on Neibolt Street. He should feel joy or elation after escaping that fucking clown but all he felt was emptiness and bone deep sadness. Because not everyone had made it out alive. Eddie hadn’t. And he hadn’t even been able to get him out. He had to leave him in that dark and dirty place, even though he knew Eddie would have hated it there.

The days after their escape from It went by like in a haze for him. He couldn’t even remember how he got back into his hotel room. One of the Losers must have carried him there, but he couldn’t recall. All he could recall was Eddie’s cold and dead eyes, staring at him. His still slightly warm but cooling skin of his hand. The cheer, nervousness and cleverness, he had loved him for, gone from his body. Gone forever.

It gave him a pang in his heart when he thought about the fact that he would never hear Eddie say something stupid about his mum or that he would hear him mutter about the dangers of bacteria on door handles or something similarly stupid.

He pulled the blanket, of his hotel bed, over his head and tried to stop thinking about the desperation in Eddie’s voice when he asked him not to leave him there in that stupid cave and the despair and anger he had felt when the other’s had pulled him out towards the exit with no chance to get Eddie out too. He still hadn’t forgiven them for it.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

He wasn’t hungry. Didn’t know if he ever would feel hungry again or feel anything in general again. But the others wouldn’t leave him alone until he ate something, so he agreed to come to a diner with them.

Now he was looking down at his plate of eggs and bacon and while he normally would have wolfed it down, especially after the days he had, now he only played with his food a bit, taking a small bite here and there to make the other’s stop worrying. It tasted like ash in his mouth. He still cleared half the plate, although it was because he was seeing Bev’s worrying glance.

After a while they started to talk about what to tell Eddie’s wife, but he tuned them out. He didn’t want to think about this. Not when he could still see the expressionless eyes before him.

He stood up and went back to his room. He could hear the other’s protest or apologies or something, he didn’t know he wasn’t listening and honestly didn’t care.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

A week later they hold a funeral for Eddie. The casket was empty, in a grotesque play of normalcy, like he hadn’t been killed by a psycho clown and left behind.

He hadn’t wanted to go but Beverly had basically forced him, threw a suit on his bed and made him promise to go. She had done it because she wanted him to be okay and thought he needed closure or that he would regret it if he didn’t go or something, he knew but he didn’t care. Nothing could ease the pain he felt.

Some priest was drowning on about this or that about Eddie but none of them knew him like he did. And no one would ever do. Because he was gone, and nobody would get the chance to know him again.

He heard someone sob and looked at the source of the noise. It was Eddie’s wife, who really looked like his mother. What had she to cry about? She never knew him like he had. How could she, when he had forgotten most of their time. When they all had forgotten each other and what they had gone through.

When he first remembered he had wished he hadn’t. The terror and fear overpowering everything but now that he did, he never wanted to forget again. Someone had to remember Eddie and he couldn’t bring himself to want to forget him even though all the pain it caused him. He had loved him, no he still loved him, and he didn’t want to forget the time they had spent together again. He just wished he could forget the fear in Eddie’s eyes when he got stabbed after saving him. The pain filled grimace he had when he had helped him walk out of the little crevice. The desperation he had when he realized he could die in that damn place. The emotionless and dead eyes, staring in his soul and accusing him of leaving him behind.

Abruptly he stood up, not caring that he interrupted the service and the angry stares he got. He needed a cigarette now. He needed the calming effect nicotine had on him. He needed to get out of there, where only a small amount of people knew what had really happened.

Once outside he shakily pulled out a pack of cigarettes, he thankfully had put inside his suit pocket, and a book of matches from the hotel. He tried to light a match, but his shaking hands made it slip through his fingers. He pulled out another and after trying and failing to light it twice, he finally got it and lit his cigarette. Taking a deep breath of the burning nicotine.

He walked through the graves, trying not to think of the fact that soon there would be a gravestone with Edward Kaspbrak on it and an empty coffin beneath it.

Taking another drag of his cigarette, feeling his heartbeat calming he continued to look around.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he heard someone ask if he’s okay. He turned. It was Bill. Of course it was Bill. He was always looking out for the Losers. Except that one time. Not that he hadn’t tried, he just didn’t have a chance.

He felt himself nod and told a quick joke about churches always feeling so judgemental, even though he was feeling everything but. He didn’t want them to worry though. It wouldn’t change anything.

Bill stayed silent but was at his side until he had finished his cigarette, trying to offer comfort. In a way he appreciated it. It was good to see that he still had friends who cared about him but he also felt a sense of emptiness because the person he wished was there, wasn’t.

When the people came out of the church to put the empty casket to his rest, he excused himself to Bill, and went back to the hotel. There was no point watching them bury that empty casket. Eddie was already buried in a pace he hates, no matter what they did.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

They were supposed to go back to their respective homes today. Bill had already left, because of some emergency on set of his new film or something (he hadn’t really been listening), but exchanged phone numbers and assured them he would keep in contact. Bev and Ben were planning to head out soon too and so was he. He really didn’t want to stay in this fucking town longer than he had too, but first he had to do something else. He pulled out one of Eddie’s hoodies, he had saved before his wife had reclaimed his things, wanting to feel closer to him for the thing he was about to do. It still smelled like him. That certain smell of antibacterial soap and cardamom.

He checked out, threw his bag inside his car and drove off to the Kissing Bridge. Once there he got out and searched for a certain place, a certain marking. It took him almost no time to find it and he crouched before it. It had faded, the time left alone almost masking it from view. His throat closed up and breathing became hard. His vision was blurring slightly but he blinked a few times and pulled himself together. There was no time for that. He had something to do and then he could finally get out of this town.

He took out a pocketknife, he had bought on his way here, and slowly started to recarve. In his mind he saw pictures of them during the summers as kids spending time together in their clubhouse, the cinema, at the arcade. It took him almost ten minutes but once he was done it looked fresh and new. The R + E clearly visible between the hundreds of other initials and he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

He stood up, his joints protesting after crouching for a while, and walked towards his car.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Back in his home the first thing he did was drink half a bottle of scotch before he got a call from his manager berating him for suddenly leaving and reminding him of the last three tour dates he had. He didn’t really listen nor care but endured it anyway. Opting to instead just empty another glass and then go to bed. He lay awake for a while thinking of the past, of love and pain until he finally fell asleep.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The first time he had to be back on stage he had drank two glasses of bourbon, puked, took a mint beforehand. He went through his act, not really knowing what he was saying but people were laughing, so he apparently kept to the script. That was good.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The second time he almost puked on stage during one of the girlfriend jokes. He felt sick and wrong. The lying about who he was making him uncomfortable like it never had before, but he shoved it aside. It didn’t matter. The one he should have told, couldn’t hear it anymore.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

All the surviving Losers came to see his last show. They had asked him before if they could see his act and he saved them some tickets. It went through without problems. Afterwards they went to get something to eat. This time the fortune cookies told the usual fortunes thankfully. They talked for hours and he felt lighter than he had for days, even though the two missing chairs and persons that should have been there too were a burning knowledge in the back of his mind.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

He didn’t hear from the other Losers for a while after that. He went through work like usual, trying new jokes, new work and planning a new show. It didn’t really matter to him, but he went through with it. In the evening he started to drink a glass of bourbon to help him sleep, to forget the nightmares, the fear, the sadness. It didn’t work most of the time.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

In December he sent all the Losers some presents and received some in return. They were thoughtful gifts and he appreciated them but his heart ached because he knew he would never get the present he would have wished for the most.

Anonymously he made a donation to Stan’s main synagogue, in honour of his dead friend. They would need the money more than he did anyway and Stan would have appreciated it. At least he thought he would have.

He found an old comic Eddie had loved and bought it on a whim, wrapped it and shoved it under his bed. Letting it rest there, because it would never get to the person it had been intended for.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The New Year started like the old one had ended. He still went through work, not really caring about what he did but doing it anyway.

One day Beverly wrote him and sked if he wanted to meet her and Ben since they were in town. He had agreed. It had been too long since he had last seen them, and he missed them.

They went to a nice little café and talked for hours. He felt safe and for once kind of happy. Happy that they found each other when he couldn’t have his own happy ending. Maybe that was why he decided to tell them his secret. He didn’t know but once it was out, he somehow felt lighter than before. Feeling like he could be himself for the first time.

Ben had hugged him and told him he was proud of him for telling them. Bev smiled understandingly and hugged and whispered in his ear that she always suspected and that she was proud he trusted them enough to tell them. He smiled shortly at her words when they broke apart.

He told them then about how he had felt about Eddie, how he still felt about him, that he loved him though not using the actual L-word. The hugged him again, totally understanding and trying to comfort them. He felt safe and loved and was glad he had told them.

Before they separated once again Bev hugged him again and gave him the number of a psychologist, telling him that talking about it might help.

He shrugged it off, trying to assure them he was fine but pocketed it anyway.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Two weeks before Eddie’s birthday he went into a downwards spiral. He was rude to his manager, people on the street, his audience and drank way too much. It was getting out of hand and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop or care. Everything just hurt too much and he was getting tired of it all.

He made a few headlines while being out drunk, which gave his manager a headache and made Bev stop over for a visit.

They talked for a while, mostly about Eddie, their past, how they had spent their summers and she was so understanding that he almost hated her for it. He knew they were all grieving still but sometimes it felt like only his life was falling apart because of it. Like they were all moving on, while leaving him behind.

She stayed overnight, cleaned his apartment a bit once he fell asleep and made him some breakfast in the morning, which he ate even though he was still feeling sink thanks to the alcohol he had consumed the night before.

Before she left, she once again told him that talking to a therapist might work, only this time he actually considered it. He couldn’t go on like this, he knew. He didn’t want to be the only one left behind while the other’s lived their life. He owned it to Stan and Eddie to get his life in order when they could not.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

When he finally found a therapist, he was comfortable with he told them about events in his childhood and what happened when he returned to his hometown. Well a changed version of it. If he had mentioned the fucking killer clown, they would have shipped him off to be institutionalized.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

During the third session he admitted he was gay, and they talked about how hard in was living in Derry, in a closeminded small town, and know you are different. How scared he felt walking around with that secret in the 80s. How scared he still felt about people finding out.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

At the fifth session he cried for the first time. He didn’t know why at first, he had only talked about his summers back in Derry with the Losers until he realized he had mostly talked about Eddie. Then for the first time he admitted out loud that he had loved him and still loved him and desperately missed him. That he never had a chance to tell him and how much he regretted that, but also somehow didn’t because it meant that he had never gotten rejected by him. He broke down afterwards, crying and sobbing like he never had before.

His therapist told him it was a step in the right direction and once he calmed down, he agreed, feeling a bit better than before. Like a weight had been lifted off his chest. And it had. He had finally admitted his complete secret to someone without leaving something out.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Most of the time he was still feeling like shit, like he was empty of emotion and tired of the world but the therapy helped and when he got an invitation to Bev and Ben’s wedding he felt actual happiness for them and was excited to meet all the Losers again.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The wedding was a small affair, with only the closest friends and acquaintances. It was beautiful and he was actually happy for his friends. It felt good being with them and he genuinely smiled and laughed along.

For once the constant pain in his chest that he had felt since Eddie died, was almost forgotten. It was still there but he didn’t feel it as much as he usually did.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

The next day they all met up for breakfast, except for Beverly and Ben who were on their way to the Bahamas for their honeymoon, and he told them that he was gay.

He hadn’t meant to, but it just came out. Deep down he was glad because it meant he wouldn’t have to be someone else anymore.

Both Mike and Bill took it without problem, telling him that it didn’t matter to them but that they were glad he had told them.

It made him smile, he had feared for the longest time what his friends would think of him if his secret got out but to see that they were still standing by him afterwards felt great.

It slightly hurt that two of his friends would now never know but he shoved it aside and tried to mask his hurt with bad gay jokes, which mostly worked.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

A year after their first return to Derry the Losers met up once again, this time wanting to pay respect to their fallen friends.

He went to the bar, where they were meeting, in Eddie’s hoodie. It had stopped smelling like him ages ago, but he still got comfort out of wearing it.

They all talked about the past, Stan and Eddie, about how they missed them, and he wasn’t the only one who had cried at the end of the night.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

At the end of the first year after escaping the clown he took the present he had bough for Eddie under his bed, unwrapped it and put it on a special place in his bookcase.

Eddie would never receive it but at least he could think of the memories they had shared with it. Looking at it still hurt every time, but he somehow felt better about it being on display than being hidden under the bed.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

He was still going to therapy and he really felt like it was helping him. Looking at the comic didn’t hurt as much anymore, and it was easier to remember the good times they had spent together with it.

A few months after displaying the comic he put Eddie’s hoodie into the back of his closet, not taking it out often anymore.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

He bought Bill’s new book the day it came out. It had been 1 ½ years since they had returned from Derry. He read it in one night. It was about a close group of friends fighting against every obstacle in their way but sticking together till the end. The ending was okay too. For once it was a happy ending. But what made him actually smile and realize that he finally started to move on was that the pain he felt in his chest while reading the dedication, was bearable.

The dedication read:

_ To Stan and Eddie _

_The bravest of the Losers Club and the one’s who never got their Happy Ending._

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so this idea stuck in my head since I saw the movie and I had to write this before I could do anything else.  
I don't know how good it is but well it wouldn't leave my mind.
> 
> Didn't know how to really tag this, so I hope it's okay the way I did.


End file.
